Work Text:
But I don't like a gold rush, gold rush
I don't like anticipating my face in a red flush
I don't like that anyone would die to feel your touch
Everybody wants you
Everybody wonders what it would be like to love you
1.
Craig is really popular with girls for some reason. He’s undeniably hot to any gender demographic, but girls flock to him like moths to a flame. Partially it’s because there aren’t as many guys openly into other guys, but mostly, girls just don’t seem to take the hint.
Guys tend to write off Craig as an asshole after the third or fourth deadpan stare and one-word response, but his apathy just drives the girls crazier. It makes him manly, self-assured, unattainable.
Tweek’s watching a gaggle of these girls now as he refills a coffee machine. This happens almost every time Craig comes in to keep him company. He just sets his stuff at a table, starts doing work and minding his own business, and suddenly fangirls spawn out of the earth.
Tweek’s dad loves it. It’s great for business, and he even once presented Tweek with coffee cup holders with Craig’s face in a circle on them, trying to convince him to ask Craig to sign off on being used for marketing. Tweek shrieked at him and got rid of all the holders before Craig could see, of course.
Okay, maybe he keeps one in his desk drawer. It’s a really good picture.
Tweek himself? Not so fond. The extra business is nice for his parents who just work the register and wander around dropping odes to coffee, but Tweek’s the one who has to rush around trying to keep track of all the complicated orders and refilling all the machines.
It’s also annoying because… Well. Look, he’s aware his boyfriend is gay, and even if he weren’t, he hardly gives anyone other than Tweek and his best friends the time of day. But still.
Sometimes Craig’s popularity makes Tweek feel like he’s disappearing into the background. It’s like bringing something really cool and shiny to show-and-tell, and then all the other kids start clamoring to hold it and trying to steal it when you’re not looking and you wish you hadn’t brought it at all. He wants to keep Craig in his pocket, sometimes.
He breaks attention from the group hovering near Craig, and scurries back to the register to help the next customers. A girl places an order for all three in their group, and of course, as they scan the room for a table, they see Craig and immediately start nudging each other.
“Oh my god, do you think he’s single?”
No! He’s extremely un-single! Tweek wants to shout, but they’re customers, and he has drinks to make.
“Definitely not, you can tell when a guy’s in a relationship. He looks totally single.”
Tweek’s sharpie freezes where he was writing the last order on a cup. How can someone ‘look’ single? What does that even mean?
“Yeah, he’s sitting alone and he doesn’t have any, you know, girlfriend signs. Scrunchies and stuff.”
He doesn’t have girlfriend signs because he has a boyfriend! Argh!
“Also his phone case is boring, boyfriends always have a picture in a clear case.”
Tweek wants to bang his head on the counter. Instead, he tells them their order will be out soon and sets their marked cups next to the long line of others waiting to be filled.
He’s setting down a freshly made drink at the pick-up station when one of the fawning girls just slides into the chair across from Craig. Perhaps it’s the stress of a busy shop or too much coffee steam has gotten to his brain, but before Tweek knows what he’s doing, he’s picking the cup back up and practically speed-walking to Craig’s table.
“H-Here.”
Craig looks up, frowning in confusion.
“Uh, I didn’t-”
“You just, nng , looked like you could use one.”
“Oh. Well, thanks, honey,” he says, pulling him down for a quick kiss.
Tweek pretends he doesn't notice the girls gaping at him while he walks back to the bar.
How’s that for a boyfriend sign?
“Hey, I know you’re busy, but I ordered a pumpkin spice latte and I was just wondering how that was coming along?”
Tweek looks up from the foam machine in confusion. He definitely remembers making that. He looks over at the empty pick-up station and-
“Oh! Ack , sorry, I think it, uh, slipped through, I’ll get right on it.”
Luckily the man is far more reasonable than most customers, and just reassures Tweek it’s no rush before heading back to his seat.
Tweek breathes a sigh of relief, then freezes again.
Craig hates pumpkin spice.
Wincing, he turns around to look at Craig, who brings the cup to his lips and immediately scrunches his nose. He scowls at Tweek, like, is this a joke?
Oops.
2.
The binder balanced on Tweek’s thighs is completely forgotten as he watches Craig dribble. Basketball practice is hardly an ideal setting to get work done, and he could wait for Craig in the library, but he likes to sneak in and drool over his boyfriend when he’s too busy to notice and tease him for it.
Apparently, he’s not the only one who enjoys the view.
“Ugh, he’s so hot.”
Tweek assumes the group sitting a little lower down in the front row of the bleachers is referring to one of their boyfriends or a crush.
“Broflovski or Tucker?”
His ears prick up.
“Definitely Tucker. I like the bad boys.”
Tweek stifles a laugh. Craig’s, like, the dorkiest of the dorks. He doesn’t know where Craig’s fans get this bad-boy persona from.
The coach calls a break, and the players all head to the sidelines to catch their breath and towel off the sweat. Craig gulps greedily from his water bottle, which is already heart-stuttering with the way he arches his neck and his Adam’s apple bobs, but then he finishes drinking and—
Oh my god.
Craig lifts the hem of his shirt up to wipe the sweat on his forehead, exposing the most delicious teaser of sweaty abs and a dark hair trail.
Full-on cardiac arrest.
Tweek has to physically fight the urge to swoon down like a cartoon bimbo, and he’s very, very glad he chose to watch practice today.
The group in front of him breaks into giggles and whisper-shrieks, and Tweek’s grip tightens on his binder. They’re just looking. It’s harmless. Can you blame them? But logic doesn’t quell the sourness in his mouth and the itch to do something .
He drops his binder with a loud thunk , and a handful of players look toward the sound, including Craig. His boyfriend immediately breaks into a grin when he spots Tweek and jogs over. The group’s squealing gets louder as he approaches.
“Oh my god, is he coming toward us?”
“Maybe he thinks you’re cute!”
Craig goes right past them, hopping up the bleachers to reach Tweek.
“Hey, I didn’t see you come in,” he greets with a kiss.
“Yeah, the uh, the library was crowded.”
“Well, sorry you have to wait here and smell a bunch of sweat instead.”
Tweek shakes his head, about to assure him he really, really does not mind waiting here, but the coach calls the players back and Craig pecks him one more time before heading down the rows.
He stumbles a bit on the last one, then looks back at Tweek with a sheepish blush to see if he noticed. Tweek laughs, and the tips of Craig’s ears match the apples of his cheeks.
He can be other people’s fantasy bad-boy rebel.
He’s Tweek’s dork.
3.
Another strand of hair falls in his eyes and Tweek huffs it away in frustration. His hair is naturally stiff and spiky, but he’s been putting off getting a haircut and the fluff near the front keeps getting in the way. Which is precisely why he started tying up the top half in a little knot while he’s working the shop, but he’s clearly not very good at tying because they keep popping off and disappearing.
Ugh, where did he drop it this time?
“Looking for this?”
Tweek yelps in surprise and jumps up from his crouched squat to see Craig with the missing hair tie.
“ Ngh , thanks dude, these things keep, rgh , getting away from me.” He reaches for the tie, but Craig shakes his head and turns him around instead.
“I think maybe I should tie your hair from now on, you’ve lost, like, a whole pack by now.” He’s teasing, but Tweek can’t be bothered to protest when Craig’s fingers feel so nice carding through his hair and gathering it into a top knot. He finishes and turns Tweek to face him again, checking the view from the front and looking very pleased with his handiwork.
“I— ugh —had extras on my wrist because I knew I would lose the one in my hair, but then I lost those too, somehow,” Tweek sighs, scanning the spill mats and countertops.
“Found one.” Craig picks up a tie from the counter right next to them. Tweek gapes at him.
“Wh- Not fair! How come things always just, rrgh , appear when you look?”
“You’re just really bad at looking.”
Tweek reaches for the extra tie, but again Craig shakes his head.
“I better hold on to your extras, too,” he tuts, rolling it onto his wrist. “Can’t trust you to keep track of anything.” He goes back to his seat and Tweek scowls after him. He’s not a child , hair ties are just really allergic to Tweek or something.
An hour or so later, a group of girls are glancing over at Craig and whispering again. Tweek’s too busy to worry about being jealous, but he catches a bit of their conversation.
“Do you think he’s single?”
“I think so, he’s sitting alone- Oh, wait. He’s got a hair tie on his wrist.”
The girls sigh and go back to discussing their school presentation, and Tweek hides his smile behind the cup he’s writing on.
A month later, after he gets his overdue haircut, he still makes Craig hold on to hair ties for him. Just in case.
4.
“He’s— hah —coming over today?”
“Yeah, in like, an hour.”
Craig goes back to making out, but as distracting as his lips are, Tweek’s mind is worrying elsewhere.
Craig’s chemistry partner definitely has the hots for him. Tweek’s not usually good at picking up on these things unless it’s blatant flirting, but he does his work next to the two of them in the library when they meet up to finish packets they didn’t complete in class.
Obviously, the guy knows Tweek is Craig’s boyfriend, and he’s completely respectful and doesn’t overstep any lines, but Tweek notices him staring at Craig’s side profile pretty often with a certain heat, and Tweek knows it’s attraction. He knows because that’s how he looks at Craig.
Today, however, Craig’s partner had a late band practice, and the library was already going to be closed by the time they finished, so he asked to meet at one of their houses instead. And Tweek has to leave in five minutes to help Jimmy with Open Mic Night.
It’ll be the first time Craig and his partner have worked together without Tweek there, and they’ll be in the privacy of Craig’s bedroom, during the evening…
“Babe, are you worrying about the time again? We still have a few minutes,” Craig whines, kissing up Tweek’s neck.
Tweek shakes out the bad thoughts and smiles at his needy boyfriend, melting back into his lips.
This is stupid. Craig only has eyes for Tweek, and his partner has kept things very friendly.
Eventually, their time is up, and Tweek goes to use Craig’s ensuite bathroom before heading out. As he’s washing his hands, his gaze absentmindedly wanders around, and lands on the cup with Craig's blue toothbrush and the green one he keeps for Tweek when he sleeps over sticking out.
Two toothbrushes. That’s a pretty good ‘don’t-try-anything’ reminder.
He dries his hands, about to leave, but then he turns back to the sink. He takes the cup from the far corner where it sat before, amidst a myriad of other toiletries, and sets it down near the front edge of the counter. Then changes his mind and moves it to the middle, in case it falls off the edge within the next hour. Then changes his mind again and moves it to the rim of the sink, next to the faucet handle. That’s impossible to miss while washing your hands.
Satisfied with the visibility of his presence in this bathroom and Craig’s life, he finally leaves.
5.
At some point, Craig started referring to their two guinea pigs as their ‘sons.’
Originally, they went to the pet store together and each came out with their own guinea pig, but then they found out guinea pigs are happier with some same-species company, and the two they had got along so well that they just upgraded to a larger cage and started alternating weeks to keep them.
Tolkien made a joke about them splitting custody, and Craig took it very seriously. Tweek thought it was a little silly at first, but it’s grown on him. More accurately, the way Craig cradles them in his hands and then asks if they want ‘other Daddy’ when they get antsy grew on him. it still feels too awkward for him to call them his ‘sons,’ though, so he just sticks to their names.
Tweek watches through the shelf as the guy who’s working the register at the pet store today laughs and touches Craig’s bicep. Normally Craig would immediately notice and pull away from people in his space with a scowl, but when he’s talking about something that excites him he doesn’t notice much else.
Right now, he’s focused on showing the employee more pictures of their guinea pigs. The guy had immediately approached Craig with flirty small talk when they entered the store, and it turned out he was also really into guinea pigs and used to have one. It was nice to bond over that as a trio for a bit, but then he kept using it as an obvious excuse to get closer to only Craig, completely ignoring the fact that Craig called Tweek ‘Babe’ and ‘Honey’ multiple times.
Ugh. Some people just have no moral boundaries.
Craig swipes his phone again and turns it horizontal, probably showing him a video. The guy leans really close this time, head practically against Craig’s chest, and Tweek snatches the bag of guinea pig food off the shelf with far too much aggression.
“I got the stuff,” he says when he gets to the register, dropping it on the conveyor belt with a loud thud.
“Ah, sorry babe, I didn’t even help you look,” Craig apologizes, putting his phone back in his back pocket.
Tweek shakes off his apology with a smile as the guy rings up the bag. All annoyance immediately dissipates at the twinkle in Craig’s eyes and the sheen on his lips from licking them while talking fast. Even if this dude is infuriatingly too flirty and dismissive of committed relationships, Tweek loves seeing Craig excited.
As Craig picks up the bag, Tweek notices the guy is taking a little long with the receipt, and his back is to them. Tweek glances around his side suspiciously, and of. Fucking. Course . This guy with zero understanding of how relationships work is scribbling his number on the back of the receipt.
Before Tweek can call him out, he hands it off to Craig who folds it in his hand and stuffs it in his hoodie pocket without looking. Tweek doesn’t think Craig would do anything with the number, of course, and he might not even see it if he tosses the receipt. And it would do the jerk some good to be humbled with no response.
A little public embarrassment would also do him some good.
“We better get home to our, ah , sons.”
“Sons?” the guy repeats in alarm.
“Yeah,” Craig affirms with a grin, turning to leave.
“Wait!” the guy calls out, looking very satisfyingly embarrassed. “Um, I think I messed up your receipt, can I-”
“Oh, don’t worry about it-”
“No, uh, please, my supervisor will get mad.”
“Oh. Okay, here.” Craig digs it back out and the guy practically snatches it back, avoiding eye contact with Tweek while turning around to print a new one.
The guinea pigs were extra affectionate with Tweek when they got back, and he’d like to think it’s because they were proud of him for giving some homewrecker a reality check.
+1
“Would you, agh , be okay with me, um, painting your number on my face?”
Craig looks down at Tweek’s head resting on his chest with a furrowed brow.
“At the next game, I mean.”
“Uh, sure, but you know I don’t expect you to, right?”
“I know, I, ah , want to.”
“You’ve never wanted to do that stuff before, though. Why now?”
“I dunno, I mean, all the other people your teammates are dating do it, and it just seemed— hmn —nice.” Tweek rolls off Craig’s chest to look at him, admiring the glow of his lightly tanned skin in the afternoon sun filtering through the window. “Like, after the game, they went to the sidelines, and everyone just— mng —knew? Who they were there for.”
A lightbulb goes off in Craig’s brain and he snorts, teasingly pinching Tweek’s nose.
“Is this because at the last game that guy asked you who you were?”
Tweek flushes at getting caught red-handed, shoving Craig’s hand away.
At the last game, one of the players on the opposing team had apparently taken a liking to Craig while guarding him, and when the game ended, he was already chatting him up before Tweek could get down the bleachers.
When Tweek did finally get to them, the guy had just given Tweek a once-over and asked in the most insidious tone, ‘Who are you?’
Okay, in reality, it was probably a casual tone and out of genuine curiosity because he thought Tweek was there for him and not Craig.
It still sucked, though, stuttering out an answer awkwardly and feeling like the two basketball players looked a lot more like a couple next to each other than he and Craig did.
“ Ngh - That’s not why,” Tweek protests feebly, knowing his obvious embarrassment has given him away.
“Mm-hmm. You weren’t jealous, and it didn’t affect your sudden desire to have chalk on your face.”
“I just think it’d be nice to look a little more, hng , couple-y! I don’t know. Is that, mm , weird?”
“No,” Craig quickly reassures, not wanting him to overthink or feel insecure about asking.
Truthfully, though, he doesn’t really get what Tweek means. He thinks they already look like an obvious couple. (He might be a bit biased).
-------------------------------------------------
At the next game, Tweek doesn’t arrive with Craig because he’s meeting with the other people who decorate their faces for the team.
The coach is giving them a quick pep talk just before the game starts, and Craig scans the crowd for familiar bright blonde spikes.
And, oh.
He gets it now.
Tweek catches him looking and smiles, festive school color stripes under his eyes and Craig’s jersey number on his cheeks. Craig’s heart clenches with something warm and proud.
Even if he still thinks they look like an obvious couple, he also really likes making it more obvious.